Poems

Sonnet IX: Blind

I sail a mighty river, known as time
My back to prow, my eyes see what's behind
Aware of naught but past and present clime
In this blinded way must my course unwind

For what lies at my back gives me a chill
An all consuming fog that hides my course
Bringing faint whispers when the night is still
Saying soon shall I come to River's Source

But I can see behind me that same place
It was at River's Source that I began
Eternal void of oceanic space
Each mile from hence marking my life's span

Is it pointless, this journey that I wend
Traversing a cruel serpent, joined end to end?

posted by Dan Wilson @ 3:38 PM